Vampires Will Never Hurt You
by VampireSophiity
Summary: Gerard has a secret that he hasn't told anyone, not even his brother, so when he meets Sophie, will he be able to find the confidence to tell her?
1. This is The Best Day Ever

This is The Best Day Ever

This is The Best Day Ever

"_And I just can't stay. One day, we'll run away"_

**Gerard**

Everything was a blur. I staggered from left to right in a haze, trying to make sense of where I was. I could hardly see anything as I fell to the ground. It felt dry, which was odd because it had been raining heavily not so long ago. Every part of me was aching; I couldn't feel my legs or my head which was swirling uncontrollably.

I could see three men coming towards me from where I was laying. They were all dressed in deep red and had blood dripping richly from their fangs. Their skin pale – literally the colour of death. Their eyes were cold and blood thirsty as they all stared at me in desire.

I could feel my heart pulsing under my leather jacket but I knew I couldn't do anything except scream. But when I tried, there was no sound coming out of my mouth. I tried again and again in urgency. I wanted to get out of here, to see if Mikey was okay.

As the men came closer I suddenly felt small. Not just from the fact that they were towering over me and looking down at me, but also the fact that they looked stronger and faster than me. I knew I was getting too old to fight anymore. I knew I wouldn't be able to get out of here; I wasn't fast enough.

They all had their fangs bared towards me. I knew I was done for, that this was it. Three against one. I had no chance. They leaned towards me as I shut my eyes.

I screamed for Mikey, I needed to see if he was alive. My throat started to feel soar as I used all the energy I had left to call for my younger brother. What if he was hurt? What if I never saw him again? What if he was one of them?

I could hear a beeping far away. I didn't know what it was but I didn't care. I was done for. I opened my eyes and sighed in relief as I realised I was far away from the vampires. I was in my room.

"Gerard?" I heard someone say behind me.

I turned myself over to see Mikey holding a can of coke zero with his auburn hair sticking out in all directions. He slipped on his thick rimmed glasses and blinked as my face came into focus.

"Jesus, Gerard! You scared the shit out of me. You were shouting my name in your sleep. Bad dream?" He took a swig of his coke.

"Hmm… you could say that." I yawned and stretched my arms over my head, "only I think it was more like Déjà vu."

I stared at Mikey. He knew what I was talking about. He was standing as still as a statue and his eyes had gone blank, like he had just been told he had three weeks to live or that Iron Maiden had decided to split up.

"Oh" he managed to croak out, "that dream again?"

"Yeah. _That _dream."

I ran my hand through my hair. It felt like a tangled mess.

I pushed the covers off myself and swung my legs over to one side of the bed. I sat with my head in my hands staring at the pale flesh of my thighs. That's when the headache kicked in.

"Aaww, fuck." I moaned, massaging the side of my head. I hated hangovers.

"Serves you right," Mikey seemed desperate to change the subject as his voice became higher. "I told you that you shouldn't have gone out drinking last night with Bert but did you listen to me? No because you never listen."

Yeah, shut up Mikey, you dickhead, I thought. I lifted myself off the side of the bed and looked around my cramped room.

I could see my electric guitar my uncle had given me before he had passed away, sitting in the corner and collecting dust. I hadn't played it in months. I had learnt three chords then given up because I had too much to think about at the time and because I didn't have the willpower to carry on. Or maybe it was because I was too busy getting wasted?

My walls were covered in posters of The Misfits, Morrissey, Iron Maiden and Black Flag, all staring down at me. It felt like their eyes were following my every move. There was only one window in my room near the top of the wall on the right. It was the only source of sunlight that entered my room. Sometimes the darkness was calming, at others, it gave me a headache and made me feel like I was the only person left on this earth.

Clothes and tapes and books were scattered all over the floor. There was rubbish everywhere and my sketchbook had decided to leak itself onto the floor, showing the room my coloured sketches of Superman and The Breakfast Monkey.

I made my way over to my beloved drawings and picked them all up off the floor, stacking them back onto my desk. I could feel Mikey's eyes in the back of my head.

"What?!" I groaned, as I turned around to see him looking at me as if I was mentally challenged.

"Gerard, now before you bite my head off, just hear me out. I know I've been saying this a lot lately but, I think you should get help. You have these dreams all the time and they're starting to worry me. I don't want you to feel even worse about that night. Maybe it's best if you talk to someone?"

I sighed. I think I'd spent 99 of my life so far telling Mikey the same thing over and over again.

"So, what Mikey? I walk into an office and the lady asks me what's up and I just say 'Oh, I keep on having nightmares about a night 5 years ago when me and my brother got attacked by vampires and they bit us and we got turned into them?!' I don't think so Mikes." I turned my back to him and started sorting out my drawings again.

I stared at my old ones I had done about 5 years ago, the ones of vampires. It made me feel sick as I saw their fangs, their eyes, and the blood flowing from their cartoon mouths that were curled upwards in bloodthirsty happiness, so I threw them in the waste paper bin beside me in disgust. I hated what I was. What I had become.

I turned around and looked at the alarm clock. It read 7:00am.

"Shit! I've gotta be at work in an hour!" I shouted. "Get out of my room, I need to get dressed!"

Mikey wasn't listening. He was too busy looking at a drawing of Iron Maiden that I had done and gulping down his Cola.

"Gerard. This is amazing. You should really try to – Hey! What are you doing?" I grabbed the drawing out of his hands and started pushing him out of my room, shoving at his back in hurry.

"Move!" I groaned, pushing him harder as he tried to snatch the Iron Maiden drawing from my hands.

I pushed him out of my door and I just had enough time to hear him moan at me.

"God, _someone's_ got problems. Gerard, you should get a grip of yourse-"

That's when I slammed the door in his face.

I hurried over to the pile of clothes on my floor and picked out my suit. It had marks all over it and was creased. I didn't care; I had to get to work. It usually took me 45 minutes to get there. I took off my pyjamas and pulled on my shirt and trousers. I quickly did my tie and pulled on my blazer. I tripped over my own feet as I ran to the bathroom down the hall. I opened the door and stared at my reflection.

I was as white as a freaking ghost! My eyes had purple rings under them and I looked seriously ill. I splashed my face with cold water which made me wake up dramatically. I combed through my shoulder length, raven black hair. It usually wouldn't go the way I wanted it, it had a mind of its own. But today, it was being kind to me and flattened itself a little. I ran back into my room to get my portfolio which was lying on my floor among my other worthless possessions. I ran downstairs, tripping up on the last step and ran into the kitchen, pulling a piece of toast out of my brothers hands.

He was busy talking on the phone to Frank about his party this Saturday night. It was to celebrate his birthday and Halloween. Fancy dress probably, I thought. Frank was big on the whole 'extreme' party theme.

I ate the toast in a flash and grabbed my keys from the hook by the front door. I was just about to open in when I realised I had no shoes or socks on.

"For fucks sake!" I shouted, running upstairs, two steps at a time.

I ran into my room, pulled socks out of my draw and put them on. I realised they were odd but I didn't care. I ran back down the stairs. My blue and green socked feet jumping up as I avoided the last step. I put on my black, leather shoes, shouted good bye to Mikey and opened the front door.

I ran down the steps and jumped over the gate, of course, tripping on my shoe laces. I ran to my car, which looked about as old as I felt. It was in desperate need of a new paint job. I really need to get a pay rise, I thought and I opened the car door and jumped in, pulling the seat belt over my right shoulder and putting the keys in the ignition.

It wouldn't start.

Oh for gods sake! What else could go wrong?

"C'mon, C'mon, you stupid thing" I growled under my breath as I kept on turning the keys, praying for it to start. I got so frustrated that I slammed my hands down on the steering wheel, whilst screaming "START!" Suddenly, the engine roared into life. Well, at least _something_ had gone my way today.

I turned the steering wheel and drove down the street lined with small, suburban houses.

All the houses looked the same. Same boring houses. Same boring gardens. Same boring people. God, I hated it here. I missed Jersey.

New Jersey had been mine and Mikey's home since we were kids. We loved it there. The people were amazing and they didn't care what you looked like or whether you had a Ferrari or not. No one cared about other people's business. Everyone was just so genuine and kind. I made a lot of friends in New Jersey.

That's how I met Frank. Me and Mikey had been big on small town gigs back in NJ. We went to a metal gig down at a small, local arena and heard a band named Pencey Prep where Frank had been the main singer in it.

I listened to the band play as this kid with black and red hair screamed into the microphone with every inch of his energy. He put so much thought and liveliness into that performance. It made me wish that I could do something like that.

We met him backstage after the gig and we got talking and hanged out for ages. He liked the same bands as us; Iron Maiden, Misfits. We talked endlessly about music. He gave us his number and from then on we made close friends.

Then something terrible happened. Something that I still don't like thinking about. Something that scared me even to this day, 5 years later. Since then, I'd never laughed much, I'd never smiled much. I just stayed cooped up in my room at my desk writing stories and drawing comics. I knew Mikey was still upset with it; he just coped with it better than me. He had seen me change since then. I suppose that's why he's always so worried about me.

I came back from my day dream and looked around me. I realised I had been stuck in a traffic jam for half an hour. The high skyscrapers made me feel claustrophobic and the sound of beeping horns made me feel even more on edge.

I looked out of my window to see people in suits and dresses rushing to work with folders and leaflets in their arms. Whenever I looked at these people it made me wonder what their lives were like outside of what we could see. Outside of their posh suits and slicked back hair and made up, porcelain faces. They probably binge drank on a regular basis and sat by themselves in the dark crying for hours on end, wishing that life had turned out the way they had planned when they were 14. It's like when your on the bus on your way to work because your cars broken down again and you look outside into the houses of these people and see them shouting with their husbands or eating breakfast with their children while reading the newspaper and it's like you're taking a little piece of their life with you to work and storing it in your own memory.

I sighed and started tapping my fingers tunelessly on the steering wheel. My grandmother had always said that I had artist hands. That my fingers were long and thin, perfect for sketching.

My grandmother had been an inspiration to me. She had taught me how to draw and sing. She always thought of me as more of a singer. I have no idea why because I don't like the sound of my voice. She was proud of my artwork but apparently, when I sang, it made her go cold and she had told me once that I had had a voice of an angel. Pfft. Fat chance of that. She always wanted me to do my best and make myself proud. Not do anything for anyone else's sake and even now, everything I did was for mine and Mikey's benefit.

I didn't have anyone in my life. Of course, I had friends, work colleagues, that sort of thing. But I didn't have a woman in my life. I didn't really feel like I was a ladies man. Mikey was though. I smiled as I remembered how he would always get the girls looking at him. None of them would ever stay long though; he always said they 'weren't his type'.

I didn't need a woman in my life anyway. I had a good job as a cartoonist. I lived in a … okay house. I had… enough money. Oh, screw that. I didn't have a good house _or_ enough money. I was broke. I was cheap. And I knew the job wouldn't go anywhere major. Even though, I did get a big offer from cartoon network.

They had told me that they wanted to hire my sketches of my cartoon character 'The Breakfast Monkey' and turn it into a cartoon. I had jumped at the thought of my artwork being seen by kids all over the world. I had always wanted to write children's books. I had a young mind myself and my imagination never stopped thinking of new ideas. It was usually most awake at night which stopped me from sleeping very well. I would keep on coming up with ideas for comics, for songs and for stories.

I looked to my left out of boredom and I saw a woman in an old, blue mini. She had short black hair which shone in the light of the morning sun, making it glow all colours to the deepest shade of purple to a rosy red. She had light blue eyes, the colour of ice, which were framed with long dark lashes. Her cheekbones were sharp but her face was soft which made her look young. She was wearing a black shirt and I could see a large folder on her lap. She had a glow to her snow white face, like everything bad had gone in the world; like it was a Saturday afternoon instead of a Monday morning.

She had been playing loud music ('All the Same' by _Sick Puppies_) in her car. That's what caught my attention. She knew every lyric, every single word. Her singing was good, it has a infectious ring to it which I couldn't quite put my finger on. I could faintly hear an English accent as she belted the lyrics like it would be the last song she would sing. It touched me deep down in my chest, the black hole where my heart used to be before it was taken from me by a violet eyed vampire.

The lane of cars that she was behind started moving and she moved with them. I felt disappointed; I wanted to find out more about this icy blue eyed woman.

I glanced at the clock; praying it wouldn't say any time past 7:30. It read 8:00. I slammed my head against the steering wheel causing the horn to beep. Everyone looked around at my car, turning their powdered noses up at my cars paint job. They all looked posh and well dressed with Ferraris and Lamborghinis. Me? I had an old ford focus.

I gave them all a filthy look as I lifted my head off the steering wheel.

"Come on! Come on!" I growled at the cars. They didn't seem to do as I asked.

I heard another beep next to me. A man in a suit was obviously as impatient as I was. I hated this city.

Well, this must be the best day ever! I thought to myself. What else could go wrong?


	2. The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You

The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You

The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You

"_Gaze into her killing jar, I'd sometimes stare for hours"_

**Sophie**

Alarm goes off.

Hits it onto 'snooze'

Same old, same old.

Every day, the same routine.

Get up, got to work, try to survive, go home, sleep and repeat.

Is it pathetic to say I enjoy it? Is it stupid to say that I don't want to change it? It's comfortable right? _I'm _comfortable.

I groaned. Of course, if I could change it, I would. I do _like _my job but, I'm always doing something for other people, never anything for my benefit. I don't have those dreams anymore about being in a band and hitting it big and getting rich and creating amazing music. I had to change that idea for the better. For us to _live_.

I turned myself over in my bed and lifted myself up with my arms.

I rubbed my eyes with my hands, which were smeared with eyeliner, and looked around my room.

Everything was a mess. At least it looked better than Jazz's, I thought to myself. I don't even dare go in there. I swear everything in there was diseased. I remember I had gone in there once to clean and had discovered new species of amoeba feeding off of the coffee mugs and apple cores I had found under the bed.

Compared to her room, my room was the definition of clean. Look 'tidy' up in the dictionary and there's a picture of my room right next to the definition of 'diseased' which has a picture of Jazz's room next to it.

I could see my electric and acoustic guitars in the corner. I loved them both so much even though I wasn't very good. I knew a couple of Beatles songs but that was all my energy levels could amount to.

My desk was packed high of tapes that I had collected of different bands. Greenday, Metallica, the Misfits.Those tapes were like transports to other worlds where anything was possible and where I lived among intense, musical artist who spent all their time in cafes drinking lattes and discussing the meaning of 'life'.

I could see my large portfolio folder sitting on the shelf, waiting for me to go and take it to work.

Urgh. Work. I thought.

I worked as a secretary in a cartoon company. A lot of people worked there, drawing for corporations. What a way to live, I always thought, as I stared at the women and men all looking down at their desks towards their drawings. All so focused. When you talked to them, you could always tell they weren't really with you on this earth. They were always in other worlds full of super heroes and aliens and evil vampires and monsters. I did admire them but drawing for _other _people? That wasn't any way to live.

I drew a lot too. I loved to draw. It wasn't really cartoon though; more realism and portraits. I had always wanted to draw anime and cartoons but Jazz was the one for that. She was amazing at drawing anime.

I got up out of bed, feeling the cold suddenly hit my pale legs and feeling shivers running down my spine. This house was always cold; neither of us could afford heating.

I went to my cupboard and picked out my black skirt and shirt and put them on. I went down the hall into the bathroom and looked in the mirror which had been sprayed with purple hair spray the night before.

Jesus! I looked a state!

I was pale and had dark patches under my eyes. I tried to wipe them away with the back of my hand but I realised it wasn't eyeliner this time; it was from the lack of sleep I had. My imagination always ran wild at night so I was never a good sleeper, even when I was young. I put on some makeup to make myself look more respectable and combed through my black. It kept on sticking up at the back from the short layers. Why I let _her_ cut my hair, I would never know. I tried to flatten it down with my hands but it just wouldn't work. I sighed and walked out of the bathroom.

I went downstairs slowly and the first thing that greeted me as I went into the kitchen was Jazz, lying on the floor, with her bag spilling out on to the tiles. I rolled my eyes; Jazz always liked to party. I heard her come in last night at about 2:00am and I could hear her being sick.

I got down on my knees and nudged her with my hand.

"Jazz? Hey, Jazz? Wake up!" I shoved her in the shoulder.

She grunted and opened her eyes. Her eyeliner had run down her cheeks and her florescent pink eye shadow had been smudged. She sat up and blinked at me. She never wore her glasses. She couldn't afford, as she said, 'cool ones'. I always told her that it was because she didn't have a job and that she was living off of the money _I _made. I didn't really mind that though, funding for us both. She always said to me that she would pay me back one day when her and her band hit it big. I never hold my breath though.

Jazz played bass for a band that she and some of our friends made up. It was your typical pop punk band. Well, not really. Jazz always said that it was a 'Nintendo core band". I didn't even _know _what Nintendo core was, but I thought their band was amazing. I loved their songs and that wasn't only because they were my best friends.

Jazz and I lived together in an apartment in New York. The 'posh' part. The 'stuck up bastards' part Jazz called it. God knows how we afforded to live here. So close to the shopping and cafes and all.

Jazz always made me see the brighter side of life. She was always laughing and joking and messing around. She was irresponsible, but that's why I liked her. She didn't have a care in the world. I always looked after her; helping her get out of trouble. She would go out a lot. I would usually come with her. If I didn't feel ugly or if I had work to do and we usually had a laugh. Even though she would always find a guy. But me? I always left the party empty handed. She was so creative and interesting and she thought differently about everything. She dug deeper into her thoughts than other people I knew.

Jazz lifted her hand up towards her spiky black and purple hair and rubbed her head. She groaned. And shut her eyes tightly.

"Hangover?" I asked, helping her get to her feet.

"Hmm… yeah. I can't even remember how I got back home. All I remember is throwing u-"

And that's when she trod in her own sick.

"Eewww!! Ew! Ew! Ew!" She started hopping around with her right foot in the air. She grabbed the table cloth from the small, round kitchen table we had and tried to wipe her foot with it.

"Hey!" I said, grabbing the cloth from her "We have to eat off of that!"

"Well, _I _have** sick** on my **foot**!" she growled.

She reached over to the paper towels and wiped her foot. I could hear her muttering 'ew, ew, ew' under her breath as she wiped the sick off her foot.

She washed her foot under the hot water tap and dried it with a tea towel. I couldn't help but laugh; she always did crazy stuff like that. She looked upset.

"What are you laughing at? This isn't nice, ya know!" she moaned

She started to wipe her own sick off of the black and white tiled floor.

Our kitchen isn't really what you called normal. We had florescent pink counter tops and black and white chequered tile floor. Our table had paint splodges on it from where me and Jazz had gone a little bit too far with our paintings and our curtains had prints of Hello Kitty on them. Enough to make anyone's eyes water.

She threw the paper towels into the bin and washed her hands.

"Well, at least I don't have to go out today" She said, sitting down on one of the pink chairs and sticking her feet up on the table. She picked up her issue of 'Kerrang!' out of her bag and started reading it.

"Yeah, lucky for some." I said, putting pop tarts in the toaster for each of us.

Jazz had really gone crazy when she had brought home a Hello Kitty shaped toaster.

"Yeah, well. You like all that work and junk." She said, her eyes scanning the pages.

"I don't like it. I have to do it if we want to live in a decent house and have some money." I put a pop tart on a plate for Jazz and handed it to her. Her eyes lit up when she saw it. Bless her, I thought. She's just like a little kid.

She started to eat it, getting jam all around her mouth. I sat down with mine and sighed.

"Urrggghh. I have a meeting today." I groaned, leaning my chin in my hand.

"Yeah? What for?"

"Some people from Cartoon Network are coming over. Something about a new cartoon by one of our employees. I'm really worried about it. I could make or break this opportunity."

"Seriously, Soph. One day, your jetset lifestyle is gonna drive you insane" Jazz said, staring back down at her 'Kerrang!'

I sighed.

"Yeah, 'spose."

The only thing interesting about my job was staring at all the amazing drawings that came to my office. I only worked on one floor; there were four floors in total to the company. But the office building we worked in? It had about 50 floors in total. It was massive! I remember getting lost the first few weeks. We were right opposite the twin towers too. I always thought they were amazing buildings and always looked out at them when I was writing.

I glanced at the clock (a pink one, I might add) and jumped up out of my seat.

"Shit! I'm late!" I ran out of the kitchen, leaving a bewildered Jazz staring after me, and ran upstairs to grab my portfolio. I put on my socks and boots and ran back downstairs.

"See you later. Oh, and don't get into any more trouble" I said, hugging her goodbye.

On Friday, when I left her by herself, she had put her bass guitar in the dishwasher. I remember sitting in the kitchen, drawing, when I heard a massive grumble of metal hitting metal as Jazz turned on the dishwasher. I had opened it up to see her bass in there. When I asked her why the hell she had thought of that idea, she had said to me 'it's because it looked dirty and I needed to clean it but I couldn't be bothered so I put it in there. Our dishes always looked shiny when they come out of there'

Sometimes, I wonder how she does it.

She hugged me back and said goodbye.

"Good luck at the meeting by the way, I know you'll do great!" She stuck both her thumbs up and smiled. I smiled back and ran down the hall and out of the door.

I got into my car, put my seatbelt on, and put the keys in the ignition. I heard the grumble of the engine. God, this car was old!

I pulled off of the side walk and drove down the streets.

It was a beautiful day, the air felt like it was shimmering with possibilities. The tarmac streets were already glistening from the heat and bumblebees, stupid from so much pollen, buzzed lazily around the 'stuck up bastard's' lavender bushes in their gardens.

I raced down the street and came into the heart of the city. I loved it that I worked here. There was always something to look at. Everything was alive and colourful here. Everyone looked happy.

I passed the hotel Bella Muerte which was just on the outskirts of the city by a busy motorway and smiled. Me and Jazz had had a party in one of the rooms there once with a few of our friends. That was when I didn't have a job and we were living off money from our families and from benefits. The music had been so loud and we had been so drunk and young and carefree. There were quite a few complaints and in the end the cops came and shut down the party. It had been an amazing night though. It was a shame we couldn't do those parties anymore. Jazz always wanted to, but I was always too busy.

My car started to slow as it hit the traffic which was always here to greet me on a Monday morning. I put my mix tape into the tape player and smiled as one of my favourite songs came on. I got lost in the music and started singing along with my window wide open. I smiled and sang as the heat hit my face; warming every part of me.

The traffic started moving; I smiled and carried on singing to the next song.

I heard a car beep behind me. I thought they were beeping at me to go faster so I turned around, ready to shout out that I couldn't go any faster, when I saw a man with his head against the steering wheel. He had shoulder length black hair which was shining in the sun light. He looked up and started drumming his fingers against his wheel. He looked very pale and worn out. No wonder, I thought, everyone who works here is always worn out.

He had brown eyes which shone as the light hit them and had practically every single shade of brown in the colour spectrum. His dark eyebrows were straight in concentration and anger; like he was thinking about something. I would've like to have learnt his name, he looked like an interesting guy; someone like me.

I suddenly heard a beep behind me. I turned back around to look at the car in front and saw that there was a huge gap between me and the Ferrari in front. I picked up speed and drove forwards, groaning as I missed the lights.

I soon arrived at the office. I parked my car in the already cramped car park and got out. I brushed my hair from my face and walked towards the sliding glass doors, hoping today would be a good day. I greeted the man on the reception desk. I still didn't know his name, even after three years of working here.

The greeting room was a large room with glass walls. It had a high ceiling and made you feel like you were in a jar, where people were always telling you that you are doing something wrong, where people killed possibilities for you. There was a large red carpet, which looked royal and well kept. Everywhere you looked there were people in suits and work clothes all rushing around trying to get to meetings or offices. Everyone was so into their jobs here.

I sighed and went to the elevator on my right and pressed level 35. I waited with the other people in there.

It was like everyone knew that I wasn't as rich as them. They all edged away from me as if I was something dirty on the street. It's like the rich could smell the poor. I smiled to myself at that crazy idea and got out at my level. I walked down the isle to my desk, staring at everyone in their cubicles on my way down. All of them concentrating on their portfolios or phone calls or notes from a meeting.

Oh crap! The meeting! I ran faster, trying to avoid slipping over on my heels which I always did. I was so used to converses.

I reached the meeting room and, with shaking hands, opened to door.


	3. Give 'em Hell, Kid

Give 'em Hell, Kid

Give 'em Hell, Kid

"_We are young, and we don't care. Your dreams and your hopeless hair"_

**Jazz**

I sighed as the door slammed behind Sophie. I missed her company in the week; she used to always be here for me. She used to always be up for a laugh. Now I just had to fend for myself; which wasn't as easy as it seemed.

I sighed again and looked back down at my 'Kerrang!' magazine, which didn't seem to interest me anymore. I groaned; my head was pounding. It felt like someone had hit me over the head with a mallet.

Oh shit! I thought, I remembered the band and I had signed up for a group this Monday to meet other local bands and hang out at the old studio in New Orleans. We were all going to take the train there and meet up there at 1:00.

I jumped out of my seat as my phone started vibrating in my pocket. I dug into my pink florescent skinny jeans and pulled out my battered phone. The caller ID read 'Lotty'.

I smiled, at least someone bothered to call me to remind me.

I pressed the green button.

"Hello?" I asked, walking over to the coffee machine.

"Hey, Jazz. It's Lotty."

"Hey! Please tell me you forgot about the club thing today too?" I poured water into the machine.

"Ha-ha, no. I was just ringing to remind you about it. I know what you're like"

I felt offended, but then again, she wasn't telling a lie.

I sighed and poured the coffee into a mug.

"Yeah, I always forget shit like that."

"So, you are coming right?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure. Wouldn't miss it." I took a sip of coffee and it felt like everything bad had gone in the world. Even my headache seemed to have cleared. It's weird how the hot liquid often made me feel happy again. Coffee can fix all problems…

Except when I put my bass in the dish washer.

I started laughing crazily down the phone to Lotty. I sounded like a maniac!

"Urm... Jazz? Are you okay?"

Yeah. I'm. Okay." I managed to breathe out through my laughter.

"What are you laughing about?" Lotty asked, I could hear something smash to the ground on the other side of the phone and I could hear Lotty whispering something that sounded like "shit!"

"What was that?" I asked, my laughing fit starting to calm itself down.

"Oh, I knocked my cola over."

"See! Who's the stupid one now?" I asked, gulping down the rest of my coffee.

"I never said you were stupid. I just called you forgetful."

"Oh, Ha-ha. Well, urm, I guess I'll see you at 1:00 right?" I put my mug into the dish washer, which made me start laughing again.

"Oh my god. Seriously, Jazz. You are crazy. But yeah, I'll see you then" Then she put the phone down.

After I had gotten over my fit of maniac laughter, I went upstairs to put fresh makeup on and new clothes.

I walked down the hall and walked past Sophie's bedroom. I smiled as I saw it looked much neater than mine. I've seen her walls covered in posters of metal bands, pictures of her artwork and I helped her paint the walls the current fetching shade of pink. I looked up to the ceiling and noticed that she had painted it midnight blue with lots of little silver stars sprinkled all over it. Sophie always liked to make a big deal of everything she paints. Sometimes, when she was at work and I was bored and had fuck all to do, I would leaf through her sketchbooks and look at her drawings and paintings; a lot of dark stuff, which sort of worried me a bit.

Sophie spent a lot of time in her room by herself these days; always fixated on something. Like work.

She hardly ever came to gigs or parties with me now. She used to always have a laugh with me and we were always so close. I sometimes wonder whether it's my fault that we haven't spent so much time together now. I mean, I'm nearly always with the band now. Practicing and trying to get gigs. I just hope it wasn't my fault, or hers, for that matter.

I sighed and walked into my room. It had a large banner on the door saying 'Jazz' and a poster of Terrie B from My Ruin. She was like, my idol. I smiled at her and entered my bomb-site of a room.

Everything had fallen off the shelves. All my books and tapes and perfumes and magazines were scattered over the floor. You could hardly _see_ the floor which was a bright, garish pink colour. My walls were absolutely covered in posters. The walls that you could see were covered in black and pink checkers that Sophie had helped me paint last summer.

Half of my wardrobe's contents had fallen on the floor. I gasped as I saw my Guns n Roses skinny fit shirt on the floor. My prized possession. I got it at their gig when I went with Sophie and we were lucky enough to meet the guys backstage after the gig and Slash signed my shirt for me.

I picked it up and put it back in my wardrobe. When I opened it, the rest of the contents of my wardrobe were blinding. Florescent pinks and blues and yellow all stared at me, along with blacks, greys and chequered jeans. I loved my clothes, they showed who I was. A crazy, music loving kid.

I put on my pinstriped jeans and my Abercrombie mauve shirt and ran into the bathroom.

I had eyeliner under my eyes and it had also run down my cheeks. My eyes were bloodshot and red; they made me look seriously ill. My face was white. Not pale, but white. I looked like a patient who had cancer. I took all my makeup off and started again, being careful to make sure my headache didn't make me smudge my eyeliner. I looked better after I had put it on. Sophie always says I look pretty without makeup too but what does she know? She wears suits for crying out loud.

Well, she does usually wear the same sort of clothes as me when she comes home from work and at weekends and gigs and stuff n stuff. But they're usually not so vibrant. She wears a lot of black band tee's and dark skinny jeans.

I stared at my spiky black and purple hair. I couldn't believe I was a natural blonde. Sophie had seen my hair when it was blonde, brown, pink, green, red, purple, and now black. I liked to experiment with my hair. I didn't really care what anyone else thought. I liked who I was.

I brushed my teeth with Colgate, which made me feel a lot better, considering my mouth tasted like sick and coffee a few minutes ago.

I ran back into my room to grab my bass guitar. I was just about to pick it up when I wondered whether the others would be taking their instruments too. I mean, surely Charlotte couldn't take her drum kit with her?

I ran downstairs, into the kitchen and to the pin board. I looked up and down it and found the leaflet about the meet. It said:

'**Can bring instruments if you like. (Drumkits are not required as they are stocked here)'**

Ahh, good. I thought. I had just brought a new bass (from Sophie's money. I had promised to pay her back though) and it was insane. I wanted to show it off to all the 'rock star' wannabes that were going to be there. Or even worse, people who wanted to be 'rock star' wannabes.

I smiled, ran upstairs (again) and grabbed my bass. I put on my black and green converses and ran out the door in a flash.

I pulled my Gloomy Bear purse out of my pocket. I had 25. Surely that would be enough for a return ticket? These are the sort of moments I long for a car. Even a shitty little mini like Sophie's would be okay.

I walked down the street, in the opposite direction to the city and sat down at the bus stop to wait for a bus to take me to the station.

I looked around. There was an old lady with shopping bags sitting down opposite me, a man with a green and black Mohican sitting to my right, who was bobbing his head up and down to the sound of his IPod and a girl who looked like a footballer's wife, chatting to a friend about a party the other night on her pink Motorola razr, to my left. She looked like a right slut, I thought to myself. She was wearing a pink mini with pink leather high heeled boots and a disgusting white playboy top which was see through. I looked away from her. What a whore. I hated girls like that.

My phone started ringing, the likes of 'Stupid MF' by Mindless Self Indulgence started blasting out of my phone's tiny speaker. Everyone looked at me in disgust, especially the girl in pink. She turned her nose up at me and did a double take when she saw my outfit. I smiled at her, hoping to make her feel embarrassed, and answered my phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me" said Sophie's voice down the other end of the line.

"Hey! How did the meeting go?" I asked, picking at my nails.

"It was cancelled. I would still be in it now if it was still on." She didn't sound disappointed

"Oh, why was that?" I said, sounding sympathetic. Just in case she _was_ disappointed.

"Something about Cartoon Network not being able to come. Thank God."

"You're obviously happy about that then?" I asked.

"God, yeah. I wasn't in the mood for a meeting today"

"Aaah, sounds just like the Soph I know" I smiled, it really did seem like she was herself again.

"I'm still good old me, don't you worry" I could hear her sorting through papers, she was obviously sitting at her desk.

"Good. Anyway, why did you call?" I asked, the girl in pink was starting to look angry as I was making it hard for her to hear her conversation. I wanted to chivvy mine and Sophie's conversation along a little bit; I was scared the girl in pink was going to attack me with her metre long candy floss pink nails.

"Oh, just to remind you about your meeting today"

"Oh! There was a meeting?" I said sarcastically, "I forgot all about it! Considering Lotty rang me to remind me as well! God, I am such a dumb ass!"

Sophie laughed.

"So, you have remembered, yeah?"

"Yeeeeessssssss. I have remembered. Don't worry."

"Okay, good. See you later then!"

She hung up abruptly, leaving me to say goodbye to the dial tone.

Why did she care if I remembered or not anyway? Maybe she was just bored and wanted someone to speak to? Her job _did _seem so boring.

I groaned, the bus was taking forever! I remembered when Sophie and I got lost when we went to London to see out families. Yep, that's right. We're not American. We come from the boring and miserable UK. When we were teenagers and went to school together, we always had dreams of living in a posh apartment in New York, spending our lives being in a band and making amazing music together. But living in a trashy, downtown house spending _my _life being in a band and _trying _to make amazing music… without Sophie… was okay.

I mean, she was my best friend. We were like sisters. But I just wished she hadn't changed. I loved the way she used to be. Her carefree, annoying, fun-loving self. She used to be even more risky than me!

I sighed, people do change, I thought.

And there was a God, because the bus finally came.

I got on, making my way past the girl in pink (actually, make that pushing my way past the girl in pink) and sat at the back of the bus.

Everyone turned round to look at me. I was pretty used to that now though. I didn't care what they thought of me. I really didn't. They could stick it where it hurts.

I gave them all my 'don't mess with me, bitch' look and got my IPod out of my bag.

Aaah, music. It was always there to make you happy, sad, angry, annoyed, relaxed, care-free and alive. Music had defiantly saved me at some points.

I turned up 'Rooftops' by LostProphets really loudly so that it felt like Ian Watkins was singing his amazing lyrics right into my ears next to me, sitting here on the bus with me.

I loved this song. I felt back the urge to start singing, but it was getting tough.

"_When our time is up, when our lives are done"_

I loved their lyrics, Sophie always makes up good lyrics.

"_When we say we've had our fun"_

I knew I was singing now but I couldn't stop myself. I was in the mood to-

"_Scream your heart out. Scream your heart out."_

Someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind. Oh shit, I knew I was done for.

I looked up into the eyes of a man with long, chin length, brown hair. He was wearing thick rimmed black glasses and had his fringe slicked down with wax. He was smiling at me, he had a nice smile. His teeth were practically perfect. I realised he was wearing a knuckle duster necklace, just like mine. I turned off my IPod and looked into his brown eyes. I realised he had a Mindless Self Indulgence shirt on too. He was just about to say something when…

"Oh my god!" I interrupted him "You like MSI?"

He smiled, "Yeah, good friends with Jimmy too. Do you?"

"Wow! You know Jimmy? That's insane. Yeah, I love them." I blushed; he had a really nice smile.

"I suppose you are gonna tell me off for singing, huh?" I asked, I knew my cheeks were bright red now. Grrrreeeaaatttt.

"What? No, no! I was just gonna say you are a really great singer! You really pulled off that song well"

No way! I thought. Surely he's just joking around with me, maybe having a laugh with his mates but alas, there was no one with him, except his bass guitar. I guess you could count that as a friend, I knew that mine always kept me company.

"Really? Wow, thanks. I'm not much of a singer, more of a bassist"

"Aaah, a bassist? Me too. We have a lot in common and I've only spent 10 minutes with you"

I giggled; I always had a habit of giggling around someone I liked. God, he must think I'm a total and utter idiot.

He smiled, "So, where are you going to, beautiful?"

Oh my god. Did he just call me beautiful? Surely I'm dreaming right? Somebody pinch me. Actually no, don't. I want this good dream to go on just a little bit longer.

"Uhmm... I urm, I'm going to this group thing with my band. In New Orleans. I'm just getting the bus to the train station now."

"No way! Me too! That's so weird."

I smiled, he suddenly ruffled my spiky hair.

"Wow, you hair is amazing."

I laughed. "My hair is hopeless more like. I can never get it to go flat now; it's prone to going like this. It's used to it."

The man with the gorgeous smile laughed. I couldn't help but ask for his name.

"What's your name?"

I didn't mean to make it sound as abrupt as _that. _Jesus Christ, Jasmine!

"Mikey, Mikey Way. And your name is?"

I smiled. Mikey, Michael. That's a nice name. I liked it.

"Jazz Hirst"

"Jasmine, that's a nice name" he said

"Urg. Don't call me that horrible word. If anyone calls me Jasmine, I throttle them with a rope. Seriously, I hate the name Jasmine."

Mikey laughed, showing his pearly white teeth again.

"I think it's a nice name, you shouldn't be ashamed to be called it."

I raised one eyebrow and smiled at him.

"So that means I can call you… Michael?"

His eyes shot wide open. He looked at the smile on my face and grinned.

"No. Way. I hate that name"

"See, now we are both even."

Mikey smiled and looked behind me; we appeared to be at the station.

"Well, you are coming with, right?"

"Yep, Definitely" I think even if I wasn't going to the same place he was I would still get off here with him. Now I knew him, I knew I wouldn't be able to let go of him.

We got off the bus and went to the station. We paid for our fares (actually, he paid for mine) and we got on the train.

The next two hours went by in a blur. A nice, Mikey filled blur.


	4. Sleep

Sleep

Sleep

"_A drink, for the horror that I'm in. For the good guys and the bad guys, for the monsters that I've been"_

**Mikey**

I sighed as I collapsed on the moth eaten couch and kicked my worn shoes off onto the floor. What a day it's been, I thought to myself.

For some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about Jazz. Something about her hit me right in the stomach. Was it love sickness? Nah, I'd only known her for a day. Even though, we did have a lot in common.

I suddenly heard the door open and a rattle of metal as keys were put on the table. I heard a jacket being slung onto a hook, then falling onto the floor. Soon enough, Gerard walked past the open doorway, slouched over and looking incredibly tired.

"Good day at the office?" I asked, taking a drag of my cigarette.

"Hmm…" He sounded like a freaking zombie.

"You over work yourself, Gerard. You need a break"

He really did. He hadn't had a holiday in months. He took his job too seriously.

Gerard's head popped round the door. He was scowling at me and he had large black bags under his eyes. He seriously did look like a living corpse.

"Mikey, if you knew what was good for me; you'd leave me alone, okay?"

Without another word, he walked into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. I rubbed my hand over my pallid face and rested my cheek heavily against my balled fist. I wasn't gonna mess with him now, not when he was like this. I knew he needed time to cool off. It was probably just a bad day.

I looked around our living room; it looked tired and old and worn out. The wallpaper was slowly peeling off the side of the walls and the cream coloured curtains had holes in them, letting the orange glow of the sunlight come into the room and warm my face. The smell of cigarette smoke filled my lungs as well as the air and made the place smell like an old ladies ash tray. The small box TV was sitting in the corner, droning on about depressing news; wars, starving children, murders. I reached over to the remote control, which was covered in dust, and turned the television off; blocking out all the news of the world.

I stubbed out my cigarette and walked into the kitchen, ready to face the Gerard shaped monster that I would have to put up with for the rest of the week.

When I walked in, all the lights where off. The only light in the room was coming through the window behind Gerard, the sunsets last light of the day, glowing orange and illuminating the back of Gerard's figure and head; outlining him as if he was an angel. His face was dark though, he looked depressed. He had his head rested in his hands; he looked tired more than anything. Tired of who he was, what he had become.

I sat down opposite him, the strong light stinging my eyes as I stared at his shadowed face. He lifted his head from his hands and stared at me.

It was like we were reading each others minds. We didn't have to talk, we just had to sit there and stare at each other to know what was going on with one another.

I felt it was my duty to speak to my older brother, I asked him what was wrong, even though I knew the answer already.

He sighed and looked agitated as he ran his hand through his jet black hair.

"J-Just everything Mikey, ya know. This job, this _life_. I'm not doing anything with my life. I want to do something meaningful. To change the world and… and… just, forget about all those bloodsucking sons of bitches. I'm sick to death of these dreams, every night, except for if I'm high or drunk. I don't get them then. I just… I wanna know if Ray and Bob and Frank are okay too, in Jersey. I wanna know if they are coping with the whole thing, ya know Mikes?"

He took a long drag from his lit cigarette and sighed, breathing out the cancer filled smoke into the dusty air. His eyes looked tired, _he _looked tired. Of everything.

I tried to cheer him up, making a suggestion of going out and getting drunk.

He refused.

Unlike him, I thought.

"I don't feel like going out tonight Mikey, I'd rather stay here and get drunk"

I noticed he had vodka in his hand. I smiled; this was our opportunity to spend quality time together.

I got up from my seat and went over to the small fridge in the corner. I got vodka for myself and started drinking with him, both of us just sitting there in silence, probably drinking ourselves to an early grave.

And then came another, and another, and another. The more and more I had, the better I felt. Even Gerard's eyes widened in excitement and freeness as he let the cold liquid flow down his throat.

I felt my head spinning a little, but I didn't care. I was with my brother and we were having fun, right? Right?

We were having fu-

Suddenly everything was black. I couldn't see a fucking thing. My head was pounding and my eyes felt stingy. Suddenly, I knew I was in Jersey.

Everywhere was black, there were no streetlights on, and I didn't know where the hell I was either. I staggered around for a while, trying to make sense of where I was. I knew NJ like the back of my hand; I knew it wasn't going to be a problem finding out where I was.

My whole body was suddenly stopped by a great force blocking my tracks. I had bumped into a tree. I looked around me and saw the faint silhouettes of lots of trees and a bridge over a running stream, the water running through the park made me feel calm and relaxed. I knew where I was now: West Hudson Park. The park by our old house in Jersey, it was near the docks.

I saw a faint, white light on the bridge. It looked like someone's hair, flowing delicately in the breeze. I wanted to know what it was so I went towards the bridge, my feet moving very slowly, like I had chains attached to my ankles. I finally got up the bridge and found myself staring at a woman's back.

She was dressed in a long, white gown. I realised that that was the thing that was glowing; it was a hospital gown. She had long black, wavy hair which swirled around her shoulders. Her arms and legs were tied up in white bandages which she started to take off herself, unravelling the stitching bit by bit, very slowly and gracefully.

When she had taken all the bandages off and they had floated delicately with the breeze, she turned around and I saw her face.

Her eyes were blank; they were just black and deep like never ending pits. Her bone structure looked tired and worn out, her lips were cracked and white. Her skin was a pearly white, a glowing white, her head illuminated with a dreamy white glow.

She reached out to touch my face with a bony, thin fingered hand. I looked into the cold, black eyes of this woman and realised it was my grandmother when she was younger, Elena Lee Rush.

I tried to speak to her, but I couldn't even open my mouth. I couldn't speak to her.

For some reason, my eyes welled up with tears as I started to cry from pain of not being able to speak to her. I had missed her so much, no one had ever known how much I had missed her, I had never even told Gerard.

"How could you cry for me?" She whispered, in a deep, dreamy voice.

She hadn't changed, I thought to myself. She had never put herself first, always us; me and Gerard. Her voice sounded the same too, just as I had remembered it. A deep, sing song voice that she always used when she was singing me lullabies.

She wiped away my tears from my stone cold cheek.

"I'm undeserving of your sympathy, Michael" she whispered to me. "Don't cry because I'm not on this earth anymore, cry because you are still _on_ this earth"

And with that she faded away into the dark trees behind her, leaving only a faint coldness on my cheek where her hand had been.

I grabbed out towards her faint shadow. I wanted to shout for her to stay. I tried to scream in frustration and longing as my grandmother disappeared into the light. I curled my self up in a ball on the wet ground. She was gone, she was gone forever and I would never see her beautiful face again. I missed her so much. I screamed again and again and again, wanting her to return to me, to hug me.

My eyes fluttered open slowly, I realised I was on the kitchen floor, with an empty glass bottle in my hand.

My cheeks felt wet; I really had been crying. I lifted myself up gently, wanting to see the sunlight bursting through the curtains but all I could see was blackness. I sighed; it must have still been night-time.

I got off the floor, still dizzy from my dream, and walked over to the bin by the side of the door.

I tripped over something hard and realised it was Gerard's leg. I looked own at my older brother, he looked out of it. His hair covering half of his face and he was snoring loudly through his teeth. I tried to pick him up, but he was too heavy for me. I had to wake him up.

I bent down, loosing my balance from exhaustion and nudged my brother in the rib.

"G-Gerard. Wake… wake up."

He groaned and lifted his eyelids to reveal bloodshot eyes. He opened his mouth slightly, as if he was going to say something, and then just sighed, like he felt sorry for himself.

I helped to lift him up and help him get his balance. I turned the light on and the room was suddenly flooded with artificial light.

Gerard sat down in the chair he had been sitting in before and rested his head on the cold, plastic table.

I got him and myself a coffee (ignoring my irritating headache) and sat down opposite him. I looked at him while he lay there for a while, until the smell of hot coffee filled his lungs, and he reached for it.

I rubbed my eyes with my hand and tried to make sense of my dream. Why was I suddenly dreaming about my dead grandmother? Why had she said to not feel sorry for her, but for myself? Was it a sign? Or some stupid thing that vodka does to your system?

I had sworn that she had been there beside me; touching my cheek and illuminating the dark and lonely park. I can't believe I had even cried! I mean, you hear about that sort of thing happening but you never think it will happen to you.

I tried to remember the dream more, what she had looked like, but all I could remember was that she was in a hospital gown and that her eyes were like deep, dark pits.

Gerard shifted in his seat; I realised he had been watching me. He hadn't spoken for the last half hour.

Again, I took that as my cue.

"Gee, go to sleep alright? You need it, man. You have work tomorrow."

He groaned and rested his head in his hands again, his eyes slipping slowly downwards as tiredness overcame him.

I went round the table and lifted him out of his seat. He staggered with me to the couch and let himself collapse on there, curling himself up into a ball. I got a blanket and put it over him.

I was about to leave the room and go and try to catch some 'Z's' of my own when he suddenly sat up and stared at me. I looked at him.

Oh shit, what was going on now? I thought.

"Mikey" He asked, his voice sounding uneven and concerned, "are you okay?"

I stared at him for a while and smiled weakly at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Look, go to sleep now, just sleep. You'll feel better in the morning. I promise."

Gerard slid back down into the cushions, without another word and before I could count to 5, he had gone to sleep.


End file.
